


DC1: False Start

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: False Start... a kid is looking for a gun battle, but is ready to take on the old dog?Destiny’s Cycle (DC) follows the Outlaw days.. what does Destiny have in store. Each month, I get a challenge, and then the cycle continues. You can follow KC, HH, & the gang through their adventures. DC does link together, but some tales stand on their own. Yet, its building its own world history, inside jokes, characters, places, etc. I hope you enjoy DC. Feedback WELCOMED!





	DC1: False Start

“False Start”

 

Kid passed through the drifting smoke as soft as a breeze; gliding across the room, without a sound, not even his boot heels making staccato echoes on the battered wood floor. He appeared unaware of all about him; when in reality, his diamond-hard, blue eyes beneath his low pulled hat were scouring the room, always returning to the empty chair next to his partner. 

Sliding into the chair, he thought, ‘Something’s fixin’ to happen. I can feel it.’ Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he tried to get his taunt nerves to relax. Letting his gaze slant to Heyes’, he saw, he was shuffling one-handed and by his grin, he was shining on the other players.

The cards were slipping and rolling together as smoothly as the wheels on a steam engine chugging along. Kid kept watching the moving cards, not hearing a word Heyes was saying.  

The hair on the back of his neck felt thick and stiff, ‘It’s here.’ Kid thought, knowing he was right. Being a gunslinger, this many years, he had learned a singular skill, one that had kept not only himself alive, but Heyes too, and that was to rely on his senses. Rely on them, even when his partner teased him, rely on them even when all felt perfectly normal, just rely on them no matter what.

Kicking up from the chair and snagging hold of Heyes’ shoulder, Kid turned scanning the room. Anyone watching would think him over sauced on red-eye and needing extra leverage to stand. That was not it at all, for he had bolted to his feet, ready for action. Still, those around him did not need to know this. A trick he had learned from his partner, sometimes, feigning weakness could draw an opponent out, garnering you the upper hand.

Kid’s fingers dug deeper into Heyes’ shoulder, pulling his cousin’s thoughts and concentration from the game. There was not a member of the Devil’s Hole Gang, who did not know how lost their leader could become in a poker game. Kid had told him, too many times to track, ‘pokers goin’ be your undoing, one day, Heyes.’ It was exactly the reason, Kid preferred not leaving Heyes unattended, whenever he bellied up to a green top. But, right now, this moment, he needed Heyes mentally with him.

At the quick, jab of pain in his shoulder, Heyes’ stomach went tight, his mouth dry. Still, his dark eyes, only, rose casually from the pasteboards to case the room surrounding him. His brows dropped, the smallest bit, ‘I don’t see it… no law dogs, or owl hoots, we’re out of sorts with. What has Kid’s hackles raised?’ Then, with a start, Heyes saw the difficulty. It was a rowdy, still a good ways off, but the man was working up to aim his courage, Kid’s direction.

Flicking his eyes up to his partner, Heyes made a soft chirking sound to garner his attention. He wanted to read what Kid was considering, but he was too late. Kid’s focus had already singled down to the man edging this way.

That was when the man barked, “Hey, you!” while tossing his head so that his thick, blonde soaplock swung out of his eyes. And by doing so, he revealed he was still too young, to carry the title of man correctly.

Despite his lack of years to stand on, the boy’s barking challenge cut through the noise of the saloon. The words yanking the heads of every tainted soul in the room to him and silence fell upon the crowd, like frogs circling up to an alkali pool.

Heyes’ dark eyes watched his partner for a clue of how bad the situation was. And, when he saw his cousin, Kid, that he knew and loved, switch over to the hardened gunslinger, Kid Curry; Heyes’ mouth pulled tight, his dimple grooving his face. It happened fast, maybe even as fast as Kid Curry could draw, but the switch had been flipped and his gentle nature was gone before the word ‘you’ had faded away.

“Is you Kid Curry?”

Kid’s eyes travelled across the youth. He was thin, so thin he barely cast a shadow as he stood beneath the gleaming, flickering oil lamps, although, his blonde hair and bright blue eyes shone magnificently in the pale light. Having finished looking him up and down, Kid Curry’s voice purred from him in a soft growl, “What’s it to you?”

The boy licked his lips, “Well… “He licked them again, “I just… just…” Beads of sweat were appearing on his smooth, upper lip and he was breathing in short, huffing pants.

When from the side corner, one of the boy’s pals, hollered, “Come on Billie, bullypuss up and tell ‘em what ya told all of us.”

Kid’s eyes narrowed, he never cared for those who taunted from a safe distance. They were a skunk stripe that often proved themselves a site bit more dangerous than those who would face you. Flicking his chin up and at the boy, Kid Curry snarled, “What have you been saying?”

“They all been sayin’ you were Kid Curry and they think I’m fast enough to take you.” Billie said, taking a visible deep breath. “But, I told them you weren’t. I seen Kid Curry over in Cottonwood Grove and you ain’t really him.” The boy glanced toward his friends and back to Kid, “Hell, you’re too old to be him.”

Heyes snorted, knowing he would pay for it on the trail later. And, not able to hold it back, a choked chuckle rolled out, ‘Boy’s got to be touched in the head. Up, hassling Kid to the point he has ‘em all reared up like a stepped on a rattler. Just to inform ‘em, he is too old to be the real Kid Curry.’

Kid shifted, his boot heels straightening into a more solid version of his gunfighter stance. When he spoke, his tone carried years of experience, “if you know, I am not him… why in Tarnation are you, over here, pestering me?” 

“Cause, once I walked out here and got a look at you, I decided, you might do as well as Curry.”

Kid’s nostrils flared, he knew, everybody in the place was looking them both over, a fact he did not much appreciate. He also knew Billie, was a breath from challenging him. Figuring to spook the boy off, he lowered his voice, his tone so cold the words could almost be seen floating across the room. “Get the hell away from me _boy_! I’m blamed tired of your foolishness.”

Inwardly, Heyes groaned, weather Kid had meant to, or not his insults still hung hard in the air. With a sigh, Heyes looked, once more, at the three pretty ladies in his poker hand before laying them face down. And, slipping his hand, under the table, he unhitched the safety tie on his holster.

Around the saloon, chuckling snorts answered Kid’s contempt and Billie’s own pals were braying with laughter.

Billie swelled up and through gritted teeth, sneered. “I bet you are tired, old as you is and all.” As he spoke, his voice gained power, ‘not only is you tired, I bet you're scared, too. Scared like them old men who hide behind doors. Bet, you think if you snap and growl at me that I will scurry off and leave you be.”

“Here it is again, another round of big dog, little dog, that will only leave me with more blood on my hands.” Kid thought, his mouth thinning to a hard line. “All creation, this boy… Billie he can’t be more than maybe sixteen.’ Grinding his molars, Kid held his hard face, ‘damn, he has me a bit spooked though, ain’t for what he’s thinking, but because he’s like looking, years back, in a mirror.’ Considering all this, Kid had not bothered to respond to Billie’s taunt and others about the room turned their eyes to him, expecting, even wanting him to react.

“HA!  Knew you weren’t Kid Curry.” Billie laughed belligerently, “There ain’t a way in hell, he would of stood for being prodded.”

‘This needs to end, ain’t nothing more dangerous than a bum kid itchin’ to prove they are a man.’ Heyes thought, especially if they are longing for a tuff rep.’ Shaking his head, he moved to shove his chair back.

Low enough, only Heyes and the player’s closest heard him, Kid stated, “Stay seated, this ain’t over.” And, casually, he folded his arms across his chest, keeping his blue eyes locked on Billie.

 “Fact is old man, I’ve up and decided you ought to just clear out of here.”

This time, Heyes did not snort, another time, he would have loved hearing anyone teasing his cousin about being old; but, not right now and not this snot-nosed kid who was thinking of proving himself.

 “You’ve had your say, Billie, even a bit of fun. Now go on back to your pals.”

Billie smiled brashly, becoming braver the longer he stood there. “No… I ain’t moving, but you are _old man,_ in fact, I want you to leave this saloon, right now.”

 “All I’m gonna say is, you need to take yourself back over to your pals, while all your bloods still pumping around inside you.”

Hearing Kid’s ultimatum, it took extreme effort on Heyes’ part to keep his poker face blandly unconcerned. For in truth, his heart was hitting the inside of his chest like discharge cartridges from a Gatling gun. Of all the aftereffects, from their misspent youth, that he regretted most and loathed reliving, were these repeated attempts by various gunslingers, to start his cousin on the road to see their families, without him. And, every single time an occasion arose, it was like he was too late to the starting gate and was not in the race, leaving him with no way to change the outcome, or more importantly protect Kid.

“You thinkin’ you can tell me what to do _old_ man. Do you really deem, me to be some yella dog that will back down when you snarl?” Tossing his hair from his eyes and backing up a step, Billie hunched a bit as if he was fixing to make a play for his revolver.

Kid Curry did not shift, not even to unfold his arms. It was a false start; he had seen the maneuver, more times, than a man would ever want to remember. Watching the boy intently, he thought, ‘He’ll push it a bit more before he draws. I remember when this building pressure would have my blood boiling for the fight. I don’t feel any of the excitement, I used to.’ A hint of a grin curled the corner of Kid’s lip, ‘Maybe, I am getting old. During those days, Heyes and I were apart, I let my temper rule me and I lived by it and my Colt. Suppose my fast hand was a blessing, it kept me from getting killed. Hell, I am only standing here, because of my fast hand. But, it has turned me into bait to play this game over and over. And, I am so tired of the big dog, little dog game.’ With this new found realization, Kid growled, hollering, “To hell with this game you’ve started, Billie, take your life and go!”

Billie turned his head slightly, looking at Kid from the slant of his eyes, and then a snarl rose on his face. “YOU obviously ain’t Kid Curry, just some cowhand who wears his rig like he knows the dance. Bet the only dance you know is, when someone is firing at your feet. So, unless you want to start dancin’, then you best be for walking out of here…. Right about NOW!”

 

 


End file.
